Last One Out
by Kamikaze189
Summary: The regular boring days at arctic Outpost 151 are about to end when the crew is sent to retrieve a satellite containing the T-virus. Read and Review!
1. Discovery

Disclaimer: I don't own the Resident Evil stuff.  
  
And I'm sorry this isn't formatted correctly, I copied it from an email. (I wrote it on a laptop, and I'm not one for floppy disks.) Don't worry, just pull through this and you'll read perfectly formatted chapters after it. (  
  
Nelson Mossman stumbled out of the car and into the cold, freezing air. Snow covered the ground securely, trying to make his every step more difficult. He began walking, straight away from the grill of the jeep he had driven in. The night and the heavy fog impeded everything he did. "Ok, where is it?" He asked reluctantly over the radio attached to his huge coat. "It should be right in front of you, can't you see it?" Erik Gowin's voice came out of the radio. Nelson couldn't see more than ten feet in any direction, the base's lights made a huge smudge in the sky. He pressed down on the radio button again. "I can't see my hands in front of my face, guide me to it." Nelson said, furious he had to be out here. "Whoa, I'm getting some new readings from the sensors, a few people are out there. They're somewhere around the satellite, poor fools probably don't know what it is." Erik said and laughed, putting his feet up on the desk. He watched on the radio as Nelson walked almost right into it. "I found it. I'll have it back in no time. What'd you say about others?" Erik Gowin's voice wavered; he looked around in the ice coldness for anything. "Yeah, there's people out there, they all seem to be huddled around something, and it isn't 'it.'" They had specified not to use anymore detail than necessary about the satellite. Nelson just stood there in the cold until he thought he heard something, the crunching of footsteps in the snow. He turned and picked up the satellite, preparing a smile for his fellow searcher. Nelson was able to easily hold the tiny satellite; it was a mere foot long. He saw the outline of a fur coat coming towards him. The man came into view; his face was covered with blood. The man tripped and fell, one of his feet had been severed, and he was walking on a bloody stump. Nelson's smiled instantly faded. "Holy shit! They must've opened the god damned thing!" Nelson turned around and ran as fast as he could. He smacked into the front of the jeep, the satellite slid out of his grip and across the dash. He turned around, fumbling to get the keys out. After finally getting the keys out he threw the satellite into the passenger seat, and got in. Suddenly, Nelson recognized what he had seen. A zombie? He chuckled to himself nervously at the thought. He started the jeep, and he looked forward. There were three of them. Three zombies stumbling towards him. The car refused to move its tires; they had sunk into the snow while it was sitting there. Nelson jammed the gas pedal nearly to the point of making it go through the floor. After the wheels spun for about ten seconds the jeep shot forward. The three zombies all were hit. One of them landed on the roof; the others bounced off the side. The jeep's paper-like roof could barely hold anything, and the man on top fell through it. The thing sat silently in the back seat as Nelson turned the jeep around and headed for the base as fast as he could. He turned to look back, the man... or whatever it was, remained still in the back of the seat. He knew there was an emergency pistol in the bag at it's feet. The base was a mere half a mile away when he abruptly reached for the bag. The man-zombie lunged it's upper body forward and bit into Nelson's upper arm. He smacked the zombies' head with the bag, sending it's cranium against the door. Nelson turned around, adjusting the mirror to look at it. His arm had barely been bitten at all but blood came from the small wound. It didn't move. The base was now right in front of him. He grabbed the bag in one hand and the satellite in the other. He ran out of the car, dropping both the things in his hands and turning around to lock the car. I'll be damned if I let that thing loose, he thought to himself and grabbed the bag and satellite and went into the heat of the base. Erik still sat with his feet up on the desk reading a magazine. "Oh hey, did you find it?" Erik said looking him over. "It was opened. They opened it." Nelson said, looking at Erik, who stood up. "What do you mean they opened it? Why would they open it?" "It's opened for god's sakes, and they've already become... you know." Nelson said holding his arm. Erik saw the small bit of blood running down Nelson's arm where the coat had been torn away. "What's...that from?" Erik said walking over cautiously. "He bit me. Remember from the file? They become almost entirely brainless, seeking out only food." Nelson said, reminding him. "Take the antidote. We'll get the hell out of here and call the T-Team." Nelson opened the satellite's doors. Under the four sliding doors should've been the virus and the antidote. Neither was there. Both of the containers' spots were empty. Nelson shuddered, a chill going up his spine. Maybe I can live without it, he thought to himself. He looked further around inside. There were other unused medications. He took one and threw the glass to the floor, which shattered it. "Found it?" Erik said smiling, digging around his paper cluttered desk, and stopping suddenly. "Here we go." Erik lifted a .50 caliber Desert Eagle from his disorganized pile of papers. A loud bang noise came from outside. Erik and Nelson turned their heads to look out one of the huge windows. Inside the jeep, the zombie had gone berserk, it slammed against the glass, ripped the paper top away and made a huge bloody mess out of the interior. "What happened? Why the hell is it in our jeep?" Erik asked, franticly. "I tried to run them over." "Damn it, how the hell are we supposed to get to the plane?" Erik said waving the gun. "Just shoot him. You have the pistol, you know. I have another in this bag too." Nelson responded angrily. "All right, let's go. You drive." Erik said watching the zombie in the car shift it's jaw. They threw their hoods up and opened the door. Once again the coldness attacked Nelson's skin. Nelson left first, examining the perimeter, making sure no other zombies were in the area. He glanced often at the zombie in the jeep who tracked his movements, banging on the glass. As Erik left the base he happened to glance at the satellite. One of the other medications had been taken. He noticed a label on the broken glass. It was a painkiller, not the antidote. The antidote wasn't there at all. Nelson didn't take the antidote, Erik's mind processed through it all. He remembered reading about what happens after the virus gets into your bloodstream. You become one of them, the estimated time for this version of the T-virus was two hours. He set his watch to go off in an hour and a half. He walked outside. Erik Gowin leveled the weapon on the zombie's face and fired. Blood spattered the seats, along with what remained of the once-man's head. "Help me get this fucking thing out." Erik pulled the limp body out of the car with Nelson's help. They looked in at the gore all over the seats and exchanged glances. Nelson sat in the driver's seat; he pulled his fur coat down uncomfortably so he didn't feel the blood. Erik took off his coat and used it to absorb the blood and threw it to the snowy-ground outside. They sat down and buckled their seat belts, each holding their pistols. "The plane's just a little ways up that way." Erik said, pointing. "Ok, let's get the hell out of here." Nelson pressed on the gas and they headed for the plane. Four minutes later they almost hit the plane with the jeep. Nelson was about to say something but Erik already knew what he was going to say. "I know how to fly it. You just sit back and relax. We're gonna be fine." Erik said, knowing that Nelson probably wouldn't be fine. They both ran for the plane, pistols coming with them. Nelson jogged into the back; he had a sudden sense of wooziness that forced him to sit down. The plane was a small, personal jet. Erik didn't bother to do all the normal checks that usually prevented disaster; they did a routine check once a month anyway, it was fine last time he checked. He started the engine and they took off. Erik turned on autopilot as they came to the correct height. He looked down at his watch. One hour. He felt weary. It was the search. Erik and Nelson were the only people at outpost 151. They were supposed to simply give 'it' to a special flight carrier. Oh shit, the flight could be going in any second now. It was too late for them now. They'll probably see the damn bastards and get out ok, Erik thought to himself. He set the plane to alarm mode, if something went wrong with the plane it would wake him, and drifted to sleep. Nelson was weary too, he tried to lie down on the seats that ran along the side of the small plane. Nothing appeared to work or help him sleep. He suddenly noticed something on the seat where he tried to rest his head. It was a note, written on a piece of fabric. The pen used to write it was neatly between the cushion and the back of the seat. We drove out to find it, the goddamned satellite. Wind had helped the plane along, we arrived two hours early. Would've been completely different. So different. The bastards at the outpost didn't respond to our radio calls so we went out to find it ourselves. It's hard to remember, so hard. There were so many of them. They were my friends. I know I'm dying, I feel it, the slowness. Anyway, we found the thing out there in the middle of nowhere. For some reason Rhett Lowery, thought we should just open the thing up, we had walked this far and carrying the whole satellite would be pointless. So...So he opened it, he took only what we needed, the virus and the antidote. Seven of us went out there, three of us came back. Rhett took good care of the virus and the antidote. Something swept over him suddenly. Like something hit him mentally. He just leapt out... he attacked everyone. Like some sort of cannibal. Somewhere out there is his body, limping along, carrying a bottle labeled T-virus. It doesn't contain the T-virus anymore though. The three of us came here. Our pilot is dead. He was the second one to go. I don't think we have much time left. We went to our plane, but the pilot or Rhett still had the keys. We found this thing. The three of us just sat here until we could plan how to keep ourselves from infecting others. Now, as I write this, I know we have no real weapons and we have no fucking clue as to how to kill ourselves with the plane. I just know one thing, we won't let anyone else get what we have. Kurt left the plane and went to the hangar ten minutes ago. I think he's dead. When I look at Andy Dawson he just looks back and nods his head. I have come to the resolution that we should lock ourselves up somehow. He is dead. That damned Kurt. He's right outside. One of them is eating him fucking alive. Andy went out there to fight too, tried to save him. He took a nasty bite in his arm. I'm bite free and infection free as far as I know, but I was pretty close to the virus container a few times. Andy pleaded with me not to do what I did, but I had to. It was for the better. He's still complaining and telling me stories about when we were kids through the closet door. I know how fast the disease works and I hear the sound of scraping once in awhile as the one's outside claw at the metal frame of the jet. Andy just stopped talking awhile ago. I think he finally turned. I guess I should do something in case I'm one of them. Andy is scratching the door. I have to go. I think he could get out. I don't know what to do, but if you read this, get the fuck out of here. Loretta Horton Nelson picked up his Desert Eagle and walked over to the closet. "Hello? Is anyone in there?" Nelson said, mostly to himself. There was no noise. Slowly, he turned the knob. The door slid open slowly. Nelson gasped and nearly threw up. The smell, then the image. It was clearly Andy and Loretta, one long metal pole connected the two to each other and to the closet's walls. Quite a resolution, Nelson thought. They both reached toward Nelson hopelessly, Andy's feet bicycled in the air as he tried to grab Nelson who just stared at them in disgust. Blood covered the floor. Nelson raised the Desert Eagle to Andy's head. Fuck, he thought, the goddamned plane couldn't have holes in it. He put the weapon at his side, he sat down and watched wide-eyed at the two zombies. He didn't want to be one of those things. The door swung shut as the plane took a slow right. Nelson breathed nervously. I didn't see them, he thought to himself, they aren't really there. He just sat there wide-eyed and awake, staring at that door. Erik Gowin abruptly awoke. But what woke him up? He looked at the plane's dials and readings; they were all normal and good to go. He turned around and looked back. The door into the pilot's cabin was still shut. He turned back around in his seat and closed his eyes. He then heard the quiet beeping from his watch. He dismissed it, then realized what it was for. He looked down at it. It said '-33:22:12'. He knew instantly what it meant. Nelson, or what once was Nelson, was now one of them. He turned quickly and locked the cabin door as fast as he could. The click was followed by a loud slam, Nelson's whole body against the door. It slammed again and again. Erik Gowin stood up and aimed the Desert Eagle at where the head would be approximately. The slam, another six times, the seventh time the lock bent off and the door broke open. Nelson stood there, Desert Eagle in his hands, his nose was open and blood ran down from it to his coat, making a large red blotch. He moaned, and took half a step. Erik fired the Desert Eagle, the bullet went into the zombie's open mouth and blew a one inch wide circle in the back of it's head, Gowin saw the passenger seats through the open hole in zombie-Nelson for a moment until blood sealed the gaping hole. Then, in a stretch of overkill he fired again, the nose was gone. Nelson fell onto the door he had just broken down. Blood gathered at his face. Erik looked blankly at his co-worker. He bent over and pushed the door, holding the zombie, back into the passenger area. That body would cause a huge distraction during landing, he thought to himself. It's bad enough I have to deal with the blood puddle at my feet. He turned back to the gauges and plane controls. It was time for him to land. The base was perfect for this, Erik thought to himself. He walked down the movable stairway. Three soldiers aimed weapons on him, more annoyingly the flashlights on their guns blinded him. It was a standard procedure. "What's going on?" An old man in a white lab coat standing behind the soldiers suddenly blurted out. "Someone opened the T-Virus satellite." Erik Gowin said, trying to shield his eyes from the flashlights. "T-Virus." The man in the white repeated. "Ah, yes. Zombie maker. The virus was unleashed or was the satellite just opened?" "It's free." Erik said. "I'm Nathaniel Whitfield. Follow me." Erik barely saw him wave his hand to follow. Whitfield stopped and looked at the plane for a moment. "Burn the plane." Moments later Erik Gowin sat in a small room across from Whitfield. It had bright lights, a table, two chairs, one door, bulletproof one way glass, and two armed guards. "What happened?" Whitfield began. "Well, we had been searching for the satellite for some time. We needed to make the deadline–" "Deadline?" Whitfield interrupted. "Before the flight courier landed." Erik explained. "Right. Go on." "It was Nelson's turn to drive out to sector such and such, I can't remember. He took the jeep and went out there. He found the satellite. He also found some people. They had already been...effected." "They had opened it." Whitfield filled in, he nodded, and he ran his hands through his fluffs of gray hair nervously. The wrinkles on his face deepened as he looked back at Erik. "Right, Nelson had the bright idea to run them over. He somehow hit one and it tore through the top of the jeep." The man looked at him with a confused face. "It was a kind of paper, not metal. As I was saying, Nelson got back, the zombie was in the jeep. When he came into the base I noticed he had been bitten. I remembered reading from a file we had, the virus took two hours to fully effect it's victims. I set my watch to go off in an hour and a half." Erik stared at the old scientist. "Basically, we shot the zombie in the jeep, drove to the plane, I shot Nelson–" "And you landed here." Whitfield interrupted again. "Right." Whitfield folded his hands in front of him. He looked down at the table. Erik just sat there, wondering what he was thinking. "As far as you know, did anyone take the antidote?" The scientist asked. "I have no way to be sure, it wasn't inside the satellite. Nelson didn't take it, that's all I can tell you." "I see. What outpost are you from again?" "151." "Right. I'll deal with this. You just feel free to relax here at the base." Whitfield stood up and sighed. "One of you," He said to the guards, "take him to the living area." Nathaniel Whitfield walked into the control center only moments later. Military people surrounded him. He called an officer over. "You're going to get me two pilots and an aircraft. Load it with explosives. I'll be waiting for you on the runway. If anyone argues or attempts to stop you just tell them you are carrying out Mr. Whitfield's orders." The living area was basically just a huge room with a few TVs and six sofas. On one TV a man was talking about chemical warfare. Erik Gowin sat down quietly on one of the plain white sofas and closed his eyes to relax, but he only found himself thinking. The T-Virus was being launched from another country to outpost 151. Chemical warfare, Erik thought to himself. Was it possible that whatever country it was had planned to unleash it? No, that would be suicide. It was probably an allied country. What sense did it make to let the disease out at all? None. 


	2. Beginning of the End

"may have the ability to wipe out an entire continent. So in answer to your question, yes, it is very important that we have" Erik tuned in and tuned out the television.  
  
Five men with flamethrowers lined up along the side of the plane Erik Gowin had flown in on. One officer stood beyond them, making sure the whole operation was carried out. A man ran from underneath the plane, dragging what was left of the fuel it contained in a large tub on wheels. Once the man was a safe distance away he turned around to watch.  
"Burn it down!" The officer yelled.  
Five streams of fire lashed onto the plane. The outside immediately began to melt away.  
Rodney Fleming, the soldier who had removed the fuel looked on in silence. No one could really blame him for wanting to watch the plane be burned. The officer gave him a scolding glance, he shrugged and started to pull the fuel to a hangar. He didn't know why they would burn a plane.  
He flipped on some lights and found an empty corner to put the container down in. After heaving the tub off the rolling platform and onto the ground he let out a sigh. I need to quit this job, he thought, feeling his muscles ache.  
"Hey, Rod!" It was Nick Turner, Rodney's only friend who had stayed on base the whole time he had been there. He didn't know, or want to know, what happened to the rest. An oily towel hit his face as he turned.  
"Hey. What's up?" Rodney pulled the towel off his face and threw it back.  
"Ah, I was just working on a plane. Of course." He laughed.  
"That is your job." Rodney pushed the platform into line with three others inside the hangar.  
"What's going on out there? Sounds like they're torching something." Nick peered out the open door.  
"They are. It was a plane. I was watching a minute ago."  
"Any officers out there?"  
"Not anymore I don't think."  
"C'mon, let's go watch then."  
"Hang on, we should follow the 'Out Procedure'." The 'Out Procedure' was something few of the bases had. It seemed absurd to everyone who didn't know what the base was really for but made perfect sense to those who did. It simply stated all persons outside of the walls of the base required weapons. Unless ordered not to bring weapons, you could get in a good deal of trouble if an officer did a random inspection.  
"Screw that, I can't remember where I put my gun."  
"All right, just one second." Rodney said as Nick threw the towel carelessly onto a work table and walked outside.  
Rodney checked his pockets, he had his pistol and one clip.  
There was a metallic roar from outside, what sounded like the metal screeching. Then there were a set of screams and curses. Rodney ran out of the hangar. A man was inside of the plane, he was entirely engulfed in flames.  
"What the hell is that!?" One soldier cried out.  
The man on fire leapt from the plane and onto the soldier, who also caught fire.  
"Holy shit!" Another person said, as the man from the plane sunk his teeth into the screaming soldiers throat.  
The rest of them redirected their fire on the two of them. Suddenly another person, what looked to be a woman leapt out of the flames, tackling another soldier and biting hard into his side.  
Rodney stood wide-eyed. I must be having a nightmare, he thought. He felt someone pull his arm. Nick pulled him toward the nearest door.  
  
Moments later he was inside the base, just within the door, panting. Rodney looked down the hallway. The guard that had opened the door eyed them over.  
"Authorization?" He asked them.  
"We need help, they're getting" Nick started, he was interrupted by a soldier slamming into the door. There was a small glass window in the door, the soldier's face was smudged up against it.  
"Open the door! Open it!" He screamed helplessly.  
Before the guard could reach the knob the soldiers face changed dramatically, from fear to pain, blood rolled from his mouth and he sank beneath the window's horizon.  
The guard powerfully grabbed both Nick and Rodney and hauled them away from the door, flipping a handle. Thick metal bars jolted horizontally from one side of the door to the other. Sealing them in, and the things outside out.  
  
Erik Gowin awoke, hands locked on his shoulders pulled him up from the sofa. It was Whitfield.  
"We need your help." He said letting go of Erik.  
"What now?" Erik said as he let out a yawn.  
"There's been another outbreak. You're the only guy who knows how those things act. Sure, we have files, but a first hand experience is better." Whitfield started to walk away, Erik got up and ran after him.  
  
He was pushed through a doorway, onto a stage. Erik found himself standing in front of a large group of people, all soldiers and scientists. Behind him was a huge glass container, no doubt it was bullet proof. It spanned from one side of the room to the other. The room was huge, he couldn't really tell exactly how big it was, but it was packed tight. Maybe everyone had come here, he thought.  
"and now we shall demonstrate." Erik saw Whitfield in front of a podium, pointing at him. Demonstrate? Demonstrate what? He thought nervously.  
Once again he was pushed by two soldiers, this time they prodded him with electric sticks. He felt a powerful blast in his left arm and he fell through the doorway of the glass container. One of the soldiers locked the door shut behind him. The soldier looked at him, he recognized the face, sympathy.  
"Sir, do you still have your pistol?" Whitfield had turned to look at him.  
"What's going on? Why'd you put me in here?" Erik managed to say, he was sweating profusely.  
"Do you have your pistol?" Erik fumbled with the weapon, managed to get it out of his pocket. It fell to the floor. "Good. You'll be needing it."  
Whitfield smiled at him.  
"Please release A." Whitfield said, he turned and looked at the opposite end of the container. A door slid open, behind it was darkness. Then the glass rose also. Erik grabbed the pistol in his hands and aimed toward the other end.  
"This is the easiest of them to kill, they walk and have only very simple functions. One of those is eating. 'What do they eat?' You ask, well, they eat anything." Whitfield explained as a stumbling figured appeared from the shadows.  
Erik could see it was a soldier. It's jaw had been completely ripped away, along with half of it's face. The torso was lopsided. The people could easily see flesh had been torn away in the back, down to the bone. Erik remembered he had fired three shots before without reloading. He had to make the next four in the magazine count.  
The zombie slowly came forward. It looked like it was smiling to Erik, but then again, how do you smile without a jaw. He fired once. The head exploded like a blood-filled water balloon. It was a mere ten feet away when he shot it, blood trickled to his feet.  
"What the hell are you doing to me!?" Erik screamed angrily. "You were supposed to help!"  
Whitfield ignored Erik and said, "Release B. These are basically the same as the previous ones, with one minor exception, they have slightly better functionality." He turned towards the glass container. "Bring down the doors." Large slabs of glass slid down onto the ground in front of Erik. There were three of them, each with doorknobs.  
Another zombie walked slowly out of the shadows. It had it's jaw removed somehow. It had a large gash in it's stomach and a deep cut in one of it's legs. He noticed it wore a scientist coat. It's forehead had 'BT' marked on it. It bounced into the front door. The crowd stirred uneasily, some murmurs arose.  
"Hang on, it takes a moment." Whitfield said. Then after a moment the zombie just stared at Erik, entirely frustrated. Whitfield pointed a finger at the doorknob.  
Erik watched in horror as the zombie grabbed hold of the knob and turned it. This time Erik was sure the thing was smiling, it's eyes glowed as it stared at him. It slid the first door out of the way. Erik raised the desert eagle toward the zombie's head. It opened the second door. Erik's finger pressed into the trigger. The third, and final door came open. Erik let loose two bullets, the first blasted into the chest. He covered his face as blood splashed onto him. The second shot found it's mark in the zombie's face. It fell, still smiling, on top of the other zombie.  
The doors slid back into their closed positions.  
"Now, release C. These forms are extremely smart and aggressive, they are the rarest ones you'll see." Whitfield turned to Erik. He mouthed 'reload.'  
Erik gave him a familiar hand gesture and turned towards the darkness again. Yet another zombie came out. Like the others it's jaw was gone, and like the last it had a marking on it's forehead, 'CT'. The mouth, what was left of it, was wrapped with some sort of covering. The hands had the same wrapping. Besides the jaw it had no real indication of how it had become infected. Then Erik saw the hole in it's arms. Perfectly round cuts into the arm. They had inserted the virus using a syringe. Sick bastards, he thought.  
The monster turned toward the audience, slamming it's fists against the glass. The container shook like an earthquake. Dr. Whitfield tapped the glass, the zombie ran, yes, ran over to him. He pointed to Erik. The zombie snorted and punched the glass one last time.  
It came to the first door without bumping into it, it looked down at the knob. It's hands had been bandaged. He raised a hand and broke the knob off. Then it kicked the door inward. Erik watched in horror and felt his back touch the glass door behind him. One bullet, one last hope, he thought.  
The zombie hit the second door, it bent and fell to the floor, under it were the other zombies' corpses. If he does that to the next one I'm dead, Erik thought to himself and felt a shiver go up his spine. The monster walked up to the door, it was three feet away from Erik's face. One foot from his Desert Eagle. It turned toward Whitfield. Was it asking if it could kill me? Erik kicked the glass door with his foot. It threw it's head back to look at him. Erik jumped and fired the last shot off.  
Whitfield's normal smile disappeared as he watched Erik press the trigger again and again. The glass suddenly pushed up against him as the monster pushed it with it's entire body. Erik watched the monster smashing him with the glass. A bandaged hand to each side of his head, slowly, it would kill him. He noticed the creature's arms had easily doubled in size when it used it's muscles. He heard a loud snap, he thought it was his skull. He looked down and saw the pistol laying on the ground in pieces.  
The creature backed away for a moment. Then he saw it jump at the door. Erik thought he was dead. Before the zombie reached the glass door in front of him the one behind him opened and two soldiers kicked the door away. It fell to the floor. The two guards fired MP5s into the zombie. It fell with a growl. Erik slid to the floor, wondering how he managed to survive.  
"Thank...you..." He said to the guards. 


	3. A Killer Plan

The guard had hauled them into a small conference room. The guard paced around the room while the other two listened.  
"We've lost the entire air crew sir." The guard said over a radio.  
Nick and Rodney watched in silence.  
"No sir. I do not believe there would be any survivors." The guard said quietly. "What?" The guard asked, his eyes suddenly wide. "Sir, that area is completely unstable, it's suicide, sir." A tinny voice replied after him, loudly. "Affirmative sir." The guard clipped the radio back to his belt. "They're inside the base. We have to save as many people as we can."  
"Who are they?" Nick asked, curiously. He never worried, Rodney thought to himself.  
"Humans, with less brain function. At least in most cases. To be put in lament terms, zombies." The guard pulled out a sub-machine gun.  
"You're serious?" Rodney asked, not expecting an answer.  
The guard turned around and walked out one of the room's doors. The other two followed close behind him. The hallways were completely bare, no people at all. The guard made a turn, his gun raised. Nothing. Another hallway, once again it was empty. Rodney pulled his USP from his pocket and loaded it with the only clip he had.  
The guard found a door, it appeared to interest him. There were the sounds of hands banging on the other side.  
"Are they normal or are they... them?" Rodney asked as he aimed the pistol.  
"No way to tell. We just open it up." The guard flipped an emergency switch on the wall, the door slid up into the ceiling. There was an older scientist who fell into the arms of the guard, more soldiers and people came out. Behind them, were the undead. Them. The guard threw the switch down again, the door shut. The heavy metal bolts they had seen on the other door closed this one off also.  
  
Now there were at least fifty people crowded in the hallway. All of them were scientists or soldiers. The old scientist stood up.  
  
"Thank you." He said in a cold manner. "I'm Dr. Whitfield. You are now under my command."  
  
"Affirmative. We are to continue to sector thirteen." The guard replied.  
  
"Thirteen, isn't that the one...the abandoned one?" Whitfield asked.  
  
"Yes, but it was also designed to take care of the zombies."  
  
"You two," Whitfield looked at Nick and Rodney. "Watch this man, he may try to attack us."  
  
Two soldiers pushed Erik toward Nick and Rodney.  
  
They met minor resistance on the way to sector thirteen, just a few zombies.  
  
A few of the soldiers huddled around the door, painted with the number thirteen and large bold letters reading 'Off-Limits.'  
  
"Lovely, thirteen, the luckiest of all numbers." Nick said with sarcasm.  
  
"I don't believe in luck." Erik said coldly.  
  
The door slid open, slowly, and silently. Everyone began to file through the doorway.  
  
"Everybody in, everybody in." A soldier chattered as he pushed reluctant scientists through the doorway.  
  
Eventually everyone was inside. Whitfield stood in the back, next to the door, watching the soldiers typing a code into a control panel.  
  
"Sir, do you want the door closed?" The soldier typing asked.  
  
Before Whitfield ever had a chance to respond the door slid down.  
  
"Oh shit." Whitfield turned around, the door at the other end of the hallway shut also. "Oh shit."  
  
"What?" The soldier asked.  
  
"Did you do that?" Whitfield asked, nervously.  
  
"No, but—"  
  
"Do you have a computer?" The soldier nodded in reply, "Give it to me, now."  
  
The soldier gave Whitfield his small laptop. The soldiers huddled around the computer.  
  
On the screen Whitfield typed: WHAT ARE YOU DOING?  
  
Nothing happened, for a moment.  
  
VIRUS DETECTED. Came back the reply.  
  
Whitfield hammered the keys  
  
AIDAD, DO NOT ATTACK.  
  
I MUST NOT BE INFECTED NATHAN.  
  
"What is this?" One soldier asked.  
  
"It's AIDAD. He's locked us in."  
  
I HAVE DONE SO. The screen blinked.  
  
AIDAD, LET US ENTER. THERE ARE ANTIDOTES INSIDE.  
  
NO. I WILL BE INFECTED.  
  
"Tell him we'll shoot him if he doesn't let us in." One soldier said.  
  
"Shoot him? That's impossible."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"AIDAD, isn't a human, it's an artificial intelligence. It's designed to assassinate or destroy all intruding life forms. Only normal and healthy humans can enter."  
  
I AM GOING TO KILL THE VIRUS.  
  
AIDAD, THESE PEOPLE CAN STILL BE TREATED.  
  
I WILL BE INFECTED NATHAN. I WILL DIE.  
  
"You aren't human damn it! That's your programming! You only think you're human!" Whitfield shouted at the computer.  
  
I WILL DIE. I WILL DIE. I WILL DIE.  
  
"SHUT UP!"  
  
I AM SORRY.  
  
Whitfield sighed, took a few deep breathes.  
  
"AIDAD, let us in. You do understand we will die if we cannot get in."  
  
I DO NOT CARE. I DO NOT WISH TO BE INFECTED NATHAN.  
  
"This doesn't agree with his programming, he must be going insane from isolation." Whitfield shook his head. "We never should've gone in here."  
  
NATHAN, THERE IS A WAY YOU CAN GET IN.  
  
"How?"  
  
LET ME KILL THEM. I MUST. I DO NOT WISH TO BE INFECTED.  
  
"Kill who? Everyone?"  
  
THE INFECTED, NATHAN.  
  
"Who the hell does this guy think he is." Nick peered at the computer, he had just walked over.  
  
"It's an artificial intelligence, how many times do I have to say it!?" Whitfield shouted.  
  
YOU ARE CORRECT.  
  
"Be quiet, let me think."  
  
SOME OF THEM WILL BECOME EFFECTED SOON. LET ME KILL THEM NATHAN.  
  
"You bastard, you're supposed to help us." Whitfield sighed.  
  
"Now you know how I feel." Erik Gowin stood next to Nick, also watching.  
  
"Don't bother me right now, I'm trying to get inside without him killing everyone."  
  
"Just let him. It'll save us the trouble." Erik said carelessly. "And the ammo."  
  
HE IS CORRECT NATHAN. IT WILL ONLY BE IN YOUR FAVOR.  
  
"Stop it!" Whitfield sat down on the floor, the computer on his lap. He sat there thinking.  
  
"Is there any other way, AIDAD?"  
  
STAY IN THE HALLWAY AND DIE OR LET ME KILL THEM. I DO NOT WISH TO BE INFECTED.  
  
"How many are not infected?"  
  
LESS THAN HALF OF YOUR ENTITIES ARE UNINFECTED.  
  
Whitfield did some math in his head. "That leaves us with about twenty people, correct?"  
  
YES.  
  
Everyone turned to face him. Some knew which category they were in.  
  
"AIDAD, start the countdown at thirty seconds." Whitfield shut the computer and stood up. "I'm sorry I led you in here. I'm sorry it had to end this way."  
  
Twenty seconds.  
  
Some people were crying, mostly the scientists. Others closed their eyes or covered their faces. Some watched the guns' doors open and aim at targets from the ceiling.  
  
Ten seconds.  
  
"Bye..."  
  
"I'm sorry..."  
  
"I know..."  
  
Whitfield, Erik, Nick, and Rodney listened to those who were about to die, their last words.  
  
Three.  
  
Two.  
  
One.  
  
The machine guns in the ceiling rained fire on the people below. Blood flew in every direction. Corpses lay everywhere on the floor.  
  
Erik looked around, he had covered his face up in the chaos. A person ran away from the gun targeting him. As he was about to run into Erik, his head shattered and skull fragments went everywhere. The dead man lay at his feet. Others stood still, some were hugging. Their craniums bursting and corpses falling in streams of blood everywhere.  
  
Whitfield vomited on the floor, he watched it mix with the blood and vomited again, and continued to gag, but nothing was left for him to vomit. He noticed others had done the same, including Rodney.  
  
The guns finally stopped.  
  
Whitfield opened the laptop up again. He could see the countdown on the screen.  
  
"AIDAD, you son of a bitch."  
  
I AM TRULY SORRY.  
  
"You aren't sorry. You don't even know what sorry means." Whitfield glared at the screen, he was suddenly very tired.  
  
NATHAN, I SUGGEST YOU STOP. I AM THE ONE WHO GRANTS LIFE AND DEATH.  
  
"Is that a threat? He's programmed to threaten?" Nick asked, curiously.  
  
"No, I'm sure he's learned about threatening."  
  
"learned?" Nick was surprised.  
  
"Be quiet. AIDAD, open the door."  
  
I DID NOT HEAR THE MAGIC WORD.  
  
"Please."  
  
The door into sector thirteen slid open. The people filed inside. They were inside a twenty-foot wide rectangle. It ramped downward, heading for yet another hallway, it was dark, and the soldiers used their flashlights.  
  
"This ramp won't take long if we run, and AIDAD doesn't try any tricks." Whitfield said as he took the lead and watched the screen on the laptop.  
  
"I'm just curious, why was it me?" Erik walked next to Whitfield.  
  
"I'm sorry about that. It wasn't my idea. You were actually supposed to be killed."  
  
"I'm going to kill you." Erik muttered and walked away. Whitfield ignored him, completely unaware of what had just developed.  
  
The twenty people continued walking in silence for some time.  
  
"Everyone, stop."  
  
The screen of the laptop displayed: I HAVE BEEN INFECTED.  
  
"RUN!" Whitfield burst off running. Everyone followed as close as they could.  
  
A woman scientist tripped and fell. They watched her disappear in the darkness. Moments later her screams filled the air. Everyone knew why they were running.  
  
Whitfield stopped right in front of the next door.  
  
"AIDAD, open up!" He yelled.  
  
I HAVE BEEN INFECTED NATHAN. I WILL DIE.  
  
"Shut up! You're not human!"  
  
NATHAN, YOU SON OF A BITCH.  
  
A soldier hammered away at a keypad on the wall.  
  
"I got it!" He yelled. A zombie, either a B-type or C-type, lunged onto him as the door opened. Other people were grabbed and pulled backward into the crowd of undead.  
  
Erik grabbed Nick and Rodney's shoulders, the crowd pushed them into the hallway. They all fell over, lots of people walked on them or over them. The door behind them closed.  
  
Rodney yelled, "Get off of me!" Then he looked up and realized it was a zombie standing on him. He aimed his USP but it's body practically exploded so many bullets hit it. The other soldiers held their sub-machine guns up, the nozzles smoking.  
  
The three crawled away from the corpse and stood up. There were no other zombies.  
  
Whitfield leaned against a wall watching the computer.  
  
"AIDAD, open the door." He watched the computer, it said nothing. "Please."  
  
The other door opened up. The remaining sixteen people came into the room. It was a barren room. It was cold hard metal all around, there were five doors. Two lead to food supplies, enough for three years. Another was a bathroom, and then an armory/bomb shelter. The last one lead back into the upper facility, it, without a doubt, was flooded with zombies. Some people sat down. One scientist held his hand up and watched it shake, he gave a nervous laugh to the person next to him. A soldier lit up a cigar, he put it in his mouth and reloaded his MP5. Erik watched from an unemotional state. To him this was all a movie he was watching on TV. AIDAD is going to help me, and just me.  
  
Erik watched as one soldier dropped his backpack. A computer, Erik thought. He walked over, seemingly unnoticed. He bent over and examined the contents of the backpack. The soldier had left his pistol in the backpack. He took it and stuffed it into the back of his pants and covered it with his shirt. He took two clips, one for each pocket. One was already in the USP so he had plenty of ammo. He explored a little more, he found some matches, tossed them aside. After pushing some clothing out of the way he found a lighter. The soldier came back from the bathroom, he found his backpack the same way he found it. Across the room he noticed a man watching him, but the man looked away the same instant. The soldier thought nothing of it and sat down.  
  
Erik had grabbed the computer with moments to spare. He lifted the screen up.  
  
He began typing.  
  
AIDAD, I CAN GET RID OF ALL THE INFECTED FORMS.  
  
WHAT ENTITY IS THIS? Came back the artificial reply.  
  
ERIK GOWIN.  
  
YOU OFFER TO ELIMINATE THE HUMANS?  
  
YES, ISN'T THAT WHAT YOU WANT?  
  
I ONLY WISH TO ELIMINATE THE VIRUS.  
  
THEY ARE A VIRUS.  
  
INCORRECT.  
  
NO, I AM CORRECT. WHAT DOES A VIRUS DO, AIDAD? He typed, grinning at the computer. He lowered the screen as a few people walked by.  
  
AN infectious agent that replicates itself only within cells of living hosts. AIDAD replied.  
  
THEY ARE THE VIRUSES YOU ARE THE HOST. Erik keyed, smiling.  
  
I UNDERSTAND.  
  
I WILL LEAD YOU TO KILL THEM. BUT YOU MUST HELP ME GET OUT.  
  
I UNDERSTAND.  
  
WILL YOU HELP ME?  
  
YES, ENTITY ERIK.  
  
Everyone but one soldier decided to go through the weapons in the armory. Fredrico Aldanez decided he was going to get something to eat instead of helping. He stood in 'Food Containment 2' gazing at canned food. He'd been hungry every since he'd helped out Nick and Rodney. (He was the guard.) He picked up some canned food and opened it up. After glancing inside he put it back on the shelf.  
"What a bunch of garbage..." He muttered going through a few other cans.  
Though no one had realized it, AIDAD and Erik had already begun their plan. Erik walked in, he turned around and pressed a few buttons on a keypad.  
"Thanks AIDAD." Erik said, pressing a couple more buttons.  
"You're talking to AIDAD? Shouldn't Whitfield" Fredrico noticed the knife in Erik's hands. "What're you doing?"  
"I'm getting out of here. But in order for that to happen, I have to kill you." Erik said, cutting the air with the knife.  
Fredrico flipped his backpack around, opening it up. His weapons weren't inside. Erik swung the knife before Fredrico could say another word. He held up his hand to block the incoming knife, it took off three fingers and slashed through his throat. He fell to the floor, blood spurting from his neck, his half fingerless hand clutching his throat.  
Erik slid Fredrico along the floor and stuffed him under one of the shelves. Fredrico fell into unconsciousness.  
"Poor bastard." Erik said as he turned around and grabbed a mop. He got up as much of the blood he could, although it was pretty much useless. Some still ran down the shelves and cans of food.  
Erik put the mop back and pressed buttons on the keypad.  
"AIDAD, continue." He said and walked out.  
  
Back inside 'Food Containment 2' AIDAD released the T-virus through the vents.  
  
Whitfield carried an MP5 out of the armory, he was the last one to leave. Everyone now had a weapon of some kind. He examined the weapon. He made a mental note that he needed to use controlled bursts whenever firing a machine gun.  
He took his gaze from the weapon to the people around him. They looked sad, scared, and like they were going to die. Except for one of them, it was Nick. He never seemed to notice how bad the situation was, what an odd character, Whitfield thought.  
Then he saw Erik walk out of the second food area.  
"Who let him go by himself?" Whitfield asked, glaring at Erik.  
"We didn't sir, there was a soldier in that room." A soldier responded.  
Whitfield did a quick head count, they were one man short.  
"Someone is missing." Whitfield said aiming the machine gun at Erik.  
"What the hell are you doing!?" Erik said, acting terrified. "Don't let him shoot me! He's gone nuts!"  
"Get him!" Three soldiers tackled him to the floor. "Take the gun."  
  
Whitfield sat against the wall, his hands behind his back in handcuffs. Erik sat next to him.  
"I recommend we all eat something, even if you don't have an appetite. We may have to move with a second's notice. The T-Team is currently on their way and we'll be out of here soon." A soldier yelled, everyone went into 'Food Containment 1' to eat. Everyone left, except Erik and Whitfield who still sat against the wall.  
"Well Dr. Whitfield, you try to kill me, I try to kill you." Erik said, grinning.  
"You can't open any doors, I directly told AIDAD not to listen to you." Whitfield said, looking tiredly at Erik, his head slowly turning.  
"Oh really?" Erik said rhetorically. "AIDAD, open the door."  
The food area 2 door slid open, and closed. Whitfield and Erik both got a glimpse of a soldier zombie crawling along the floor. 


	4. The TTeam

Justin Romero, the leader of the T-Team, took a folder from Derick Gillespie. The wind whined along the side of the plane as he opened the folder. Inside, on the front page, it said 'T-Team Data.' He flipped to the next page.  
Contents  
  
t-team members 1  
  
t-team member information 2  
  
t-team member qualifications 5  
  
Weaponry 8  
  
Target information 10  
  
Ttf 13  
  
Justin already knew quite a bit about his team, he was the leader after all. He found it interesting however that this information had been added to a new file. He turned to page one.  
  
1. Justin Romero 2. Derick Gillespie 3. Adam sparks 4. Garry Richard - 5. Reed Sheppard 6. Trent jenkins 7. Seth Larsen 8. Jared young  
  
Justin looked down the page. This was wrong, not entirely, but a few of the members had died during training. Garry Richard was killed during a live fire exercise, directly under Justin's command. It was an incident that would scar his memory forever. Jared Young, no one ever knew what happened to him until they saw his zombie form wandering the target range. It was a horrible reminder that anyone, no matter how good your training, could get killed easily.  
The replacements surprised Justin and the other members of the team. It was a surprise because they were women, Sasha Kline taking Garry's spot and Eva Benson in for Jared Young.  
He felt saddened, something that his team would see visibly. Don't live in the past, he thought to himself and flipped the page. There was some generic information on himself that he ignored. Below that was Derrick's information.  
  
Derrick Gillespie A friendly soldier, if you ask me, he displays good leadership and bravery in his actions on the course. He is second to Justin in kills. He does lack intelligence in mathematics and science, however, I find he has no problem finding the correct trajectory for a grenade. I leave the decision up to you, but I'd put him second in charge. I don't know why you even ask me about shooting abilities-they're off the chart, as always.  
  
Justin nodded, it seemed fitting. When the T-Team was pulled out of the military they were all tested. Tested for everything, how good were they at math, science, did they know the history of the world? Stuff that seemed entirely irrelevant. Irrelevant, only up until they took out guns and fired. Little did they know every time they went on a mission they had numbers, words and other annoyances to memorize.  
Justin continued to read the next paragraph.  
  
Adam Sparks Poor leadership skills. Cannot take action well under high stress levels. Medium level of kills on the course. He is fairly intelligent, yet his decision making is poor. When he should be throwing grenades, he's shooting, when he's throwing grenades he should be shooting. Despite his declined individual fighting he is the ideal soldier otherwise. He'll follow a command, no matter what. Though it may seem this contradicts his 'bravery level' it appears quite valid. I'm not sure if this one even belongs on the team.  
  
Justin looked around, saw Adam holding his M4A1 tightly in his hands, sweat coming down his forehead. Next paragraph, Justin thought to himself. Then he realized there was no point in reading about someone who was dead. He skipped over to the next one.  
  
Reed Sheppard He displays some well thought out tactics on the course. He is the most strategic member on the team, so far. He is also responsible for the creation of the new armor.  
  
New armor? Justin thought to himself, trying to remember back to training. Justin looked down, he wore what looked to be a heavy assault suit. It was entirely black, whenever it took a punch it would dent and then return to normal. The wearer didn't have to worry about bites, except in the face. Of course, this isn't known, this was the first mission they were ever on where they wore these suits. It was comforting none the less, but nobody was going to purposely test these either.  
  
Trent Jenkins I call him joe, because he seems like the average soldier. He's loyal and follows orders and he gets the shots in the right places. The real reason he should be on the team is for moral, he has a sense of humour that few can avoid laughing at. Basically put, this man will keep our team from insanity. He handles difficult tasks well. He will be in charge of the ttf.  
  
Seth Larsen He is the only one of team that has sniper rifle capability. He is crack- shot and there's no doubt this team needs at least one sniper. Whatever the case, he displays little sign of nervousness, even in the largest fights he stays calm. A very useful trait.  
  
Justin remembered how they were treated. Like animals, they were thrown onto a training course with zombies all over it. There were weapons and other people who had failed at the training course on the ground. Justin tried to recall what happened but couldn't. For once he was able to forget a terrible feeling. He looked back to the pages, flipped through some pages and came to the 'Target Information' page.  
  
A Types Very little brain function, which includes eating. They do not have the ability to climb stairs or ladders or trees. They cannot open a door by using the handle, they may ram the door down, however. These are the most common, they are not something to fear unless in tight spaces.  
  
B Types More brain function than a types allows them to open doors by using the handle and to climb stairs, but not ladders and not usually trees. In some instances these have the ability to run.  
  
C Types Smartest one there is. Opens doors, climbs ladders, stairs, you name it. During testing one even had the ability to drive a car to kill it's prey.  
  
Absurd, Justin thought reading about the B types and C types. He looked further down the page.  
  
NOTE: There is no strict definition as to what type an infected person may take. It is safest to eliminate them at your first chance. In some cases the virus enhances muscle strength, making them much harder to put down.  
  
Justin looked at his black suit-clad team. I won't have to do that, he thought. He found himself looking at the TTF. TTF, he had heard of it before, a very long time ago. He had never been on a mission requiring the TTF before.  
  
TTF. Should the T-team fail, they will detonate an explosive. This explosive will clear a fifty mile radius, incinerating everything in it's path. The purpose is to erase the existence of t-team and any umbrella personell or buildings.  
  
Justin looked by Trent's feet, there was a 4X4 'crate' which was actually the bomb. He knew something no one else did. If their heart rate monitors said they were dead it would trigger the explosives in the bomb, setting a countdown for one hour. It could not be cancelled in any way, not even EMP could shut it down.  
Justin heard the tires of the plane screech along the runway. He looked out the window, there was a plane on the runway they passed, it was in flames. He looked past that and saw a few empty hangars. There was blood in the snow and disregarded weaponry. Justin clenched his M4 and signaled to his team.  
"All right, it's go time guys." He said as the plane finally came to a stop. The door on the side of the plane opened and Justin looked down. There was just snow and runway. He was glad to see just that though. Rather than jumping down, he jumped from the doorway onto the wing. He then scurried his way to the top of the plane and looked down. The base's front door had been pushed in, there were metal bars with blood all over them. The door itself was crushed inward like a tin can and lay on the floor. He did a quick search, aiming his rifle around some more.  
"All clear. Move to the front door team, stay alert. They've definitely been here." Their helmets automatically transmitted everything they said to everyone else. It was a very useful thing to have in a fight.  
He slid down the side of the plane onto the other wing toward the base. He ran forward and jumped down. The snow crunched under his feet as he moved alone towards the door, yellow light flowed out of it. He walked in, blood trails were everywhere. He stepped backwards. He turned to the other seven figures standing in the cold in their suits.  
"Bravo Team, go set up the TTF on the roof. I will inform you on our meeting point later." He watched Reed, Trent, Seth, and Eva disappear into the fog. "Alpha members, follow me." 


	5. The Ultimate Cure

A soldier and a scientist ran down a hallway. Blood trickled out of the scientists arm as he ran. "Here!" He yelled. The two jumped into a side room. The room contained a large desk, it had pictures on it of the scientist with other people. The soldier quickly shut the door, and he watched the scientist open the drawers of the desk franticly.  
"Is it there?" The soldier said.  
"It has to be, I remember I put it right here." The scientist put a pointy finger on the corner of his desk. Their eyes searched the room.  
A soft moan came from the hallway. "We have to move again." The soldier held a glock, his last clip inside.  
"Wait, I think I have it." The scientist's arm went deep into the desk drawer. He grunted and pulled out a glass container. An empty glass container. "Someone else took it already! Damn it!"  
The soldier looked towards the door. He noticed it had a small peek- hole. He stuck his eye up to it and looked out. A woman zombie had another, normal woman in her grasps. The zombie snarled, the girl jumped back. A hand slashed at her shirt, exposing her. The soldier pulled the door open and pulled the girl inside. He took aim at the zombie figure. He realized it was his girlfriend and slammed the door. He shook off the feeling, opened the door again. More zombies behind her were approaching. He fired the Glock, it went through the nearest one, his ex-girlfriend, and it's head collapsed. Blood splashed and he took aim at the second one. "We have to move, NOW!" The soldier yelled.  
The second zombie in the line watched as the scientist and the girl ran down the hallway, away from him and his friends. The zombie turned to chase them. "I don't think so pal." The soldier let loose a barrage of bullets into the zombie, and the wall behind it. The wall became disfigured from the blood and bullet holes. The zombie let blood come from his mouth. The soldier aimed at the zombie's nose. He fired. Blood and brain covered the next zombie. It licked the blood from the surrounding zombie corpses. He lowered the weapon to fire at the hunched over zombie. His pistol merely clicked as he tried to fire. "Fuck."  
He turned and ran. He couldn't find them. He just kept running and running. Empty rooms passed him. This wasn't right, he thought, they wouldn't just leave him. He'd been with the scientist ever since it had begun. He retraced his steps two hallways back. He noticed a blood trail on the floor, he ran again, following it. It had gone in the opposite direction. The soldier felt relieved, he would die by himself for sure. He turned a corner and ran into someone. It was the scientist. Thank god, he thought.  
"Where were you?"  
"No time, I think I saw a C headed this way."  
"How many rounds do you have?"  
The soldier shook his head. None, he pulled the clip from the Glock and dropped it on the ground.  
"Do not move!" The soldier saw a black suited figure aiming a rifle at them, he was only twenty feet away. The scientist turned, slowly.  
Three more black suits appeared from the sides of the hallway.  
"I'm reading one infected sir." They all aimed their rifles at the scientist. They looked them all over quickly, commanding them to turn. Suddenly, one of them came forward and grabbed the scientist by the arm forcefully. After pinning him to the wall.  
"How'd you get that?" The figure said, forcefully but not rudely.  
"I-I don't remember."  
"You're infected. You have two options, you take care of it, or I will." The figure didn't let go of the scientist. There was a long pause.  
"I will not kill myself." The scientist kicked the figure back, the soldier grabbed him in a full nelson. One of the figures standing at the end of the hallway fired. The scientist's head exploded and the almost headless body flopped to the floor. The soldier, terrified let go of the black suited man. The figure nearest grabbed the soldier by the collar and threw him inside a room, the girl went voluntarily. The figure somehow locked the door from the outside using a keypad.  
"Now, you have a choice. You can take these or become a zombie." The figure said through the door. A packet of pills slid under the door.  
The soldier picked it up. There were four pills. "What's this? The cure?"  
"Yes." The shuffled past the door. They disappeared down a hallway, the soldier and the girl looked at each other for a moment. He picked the pills up and looked at them closely. 'Cyanide' was printed down the center of each.  
"You first." He tossed one of the pills to the girl. She took the pill and fell, her head slammed against a desk as she fell. She landed close to the soldier. He rotated the pill with his fingers. He lay down put the pill on his lips. He opened his mouth, he felt the pill go down. 


	6. Whitfield is dead, must escape

"Let us out!" Someone yelled through the door of 'Food Containment 1.' The people inside couldn't see or hear anything through the door.  
"Gee, let me think. No." Erik spun from facing the door to the already bloodied Dr. Whitfield, who lay on the ground in a curled up position. Erik's foot collided with Whitfield's forehead. Whitfield rolled across the floor, his arms still tied behind his back.  
"Why?" Whitfield coughed.  
"Why? Why what? Why am I killing you?" Erik took the pistol from behind him. He held it up. He smiled at it. "I am going to survive. That's been MY single objective from the beginning."  
"Why...are you helping...AIDAD?"  
"Doctor, you don't seem to understand. It may seem wrong to take the side of the crazy robot or whatever he is, but if I'm going to get out of here...It's worth it." Erik paced in a circle around Whitfield. "Also, I know that whole thing about the T-team is a bunch of nonsense. You were trying to make all these people feel safe, while in reality, they don't exist. You've brought them all down here to starve or, worse, have the zombies break through and kill them." Erik aimed, placing the nozzle of the pistol up against Whitfield's head. The people in 'Food Containment 1' still had no idea what was going on. "Now, tell me YOUR plans. You didn't really plan to just die down here, did you?" Erik pressed the pistol into the doctors head even harder. Whitfield flinched at the sudden coldness.  
"I never planned to die, I planned on being saved by the T-team."  
"Ok, so you do believe in this mystery 'team.' Suppose they do exist, what do you think they do with people they encounter? I'd guess they would be here for one reason, cover up. So, keep that in mind when you see them." Erik smiled, removing the pistol from Whitfield's head. "Oh, right." Erik said with a sudden dullness, looking down at Whitfield. "You're not going to live long enough." Erik kicked Whitfield one more time, not quite as strong as he had before, but it would keep Whitfield from fighting back. Erik took him by his shirt collar, and pulled him across the floor. He laid Whitfield next to the 'Food Containment 2' door. Whitfield looked desperately up at Erik.  
"Don't you have a single bit of sanity? Or morals?" Whitfield said pleadingly.  
Erik looked down at the man, who apparently still didn't understand. Survival meant putting everything else aside, including your honor. "Well, actually, I guess I do. I'm not the one who's going to kill you." Whitfield looked at the door, hearing the sound of the zombie on the other side hitting the door. "AID--"  
"I'll help you! I know every door code and password in the entire base." Whitfield spat out. Erik smiled.  
"Ah, I don't have to worry about that, I've got AIDAD."  
"AIDAD can't do anything beyond these walls."  
"Nope, he's going to give me instructions on how to copy and setup his memory to take over the whole base. So, you're useless." Erik walked backward, with his pistol up aimed at the doorway.  
"Please Erik, please, don't kill me. I have a family. I have money, I can buy you a car, a house, anything you want." Erik ignored the scientist's final pleas. Let him live, a voice he ignored echoed through his brain. I made a promise, and breaking that promise will end in my death, he argued. With that out of the way, "AIDAD, open the door."  
The door slid upward, revealing the ragged soldier. It's throat was wide open, a half fingerless hand reached outward for Whitfield. It looked down, standing above Whitfield, realizing it couldn't bite him from his current position. Rather than crouch down like a normal human, it opened it's mouth and did a falling head butt to Whitfield's neck. Erik listened to Whitfield scream and say 'please' and 'shoot him' and other things that would not change his mind. Only when Whitfield's screams became gargles of a blood filled throat, did Erik blast a hole in the zombies' head. It's jaw stayed locked around Whitfield's neck, either he would drown or suffocate. Ultimately, Whitfield was dead.  
The inhabitants of 'Food Containment 1' had long ago given up escape. The gun shot brought them back to the door. Most probably expecting to see Erik and Whitfield firing their guns at zombies when the door opened. The door slid open, the people inside walked out, looked toward the bodies on top of one another. Rodney and Nick were the only ones who remembered Whitfield saying "Watch this man, he may try to attack us."  
Erik looked at the corpses like the rest of them, sad and sort of confused.  
"How'd that one get in here?" Nick asked, immediately trying to prove Erik guilty of Whitfield's death.  
Erik pointed to the previously setup vent that was out of place. "It fell through there. I locked the door to protect you all."  
"We need to get out of here if they can get inside." Rodney said nervously.  
"I've been thinking about that, and we have a few options. Go straight out one of the doorways and shoot them, or try to go through the vents." 


	7. Erik's Close Call

Erik watched as the last person, Nick, stood on the top of the ladder they set up. Erik held the ladder in place until Nick climbed into the vent and turned around.  
"I'll go get my gun." Erik said turning from the ladder and running to the armory. Nick nodded and checked his pistol for the fifth time.  
Erik waited for the door to close, he picked up the MP5 laying on the shelf. He knew the next step would be very risky. I just have to take the chance, he thought to himself. Erik opened a control panel on the wall and removed a disc and put it in his pocket for safe keeping.  
"Bust open the doors AIDAD." Erik said and walked casually out of the armory.  
Nick heard the others climbing through the vents behind him, their sounds getting farther away. He saw Erik and sighed in relief.  
Nick held the top of the ladder as Erik stepped forward to get on it.  
  
Nick smiled: "Taking your ti"  
Bam!  
The outer door.  
Nick pulled himself further out of the vents and aimed at the entry door. "Move!" Nick shouted to Erik, who had flipped the MP5 over his shoulder.  
Erik jogged up the ladder, skipping rungs and tripping over his own feet.  
Bam!  
The inner door burst open and smacked into the wall, falling off the hinges. Erik watched the emptiness, slowly climbing upwards. Halfway up the ladder, the raggedy blood covered figures began to appear. Erik restrained from firing. He began jumping up the rungs.  
Nick aimed at the zombies below, watching them move like liquid through the small hallway.  
Erik stood on the top step and lifted a shaking hand up to Nick.  
Nick put the pistol aside A low howling noise jumped at them. Erik dropped his hand to hold the MP5. He fired shots to the zombies slowly gathering around the bottom of the ladder. It was becoming a sea of rotting flesh below. Loud steps became audible from the hallway, followed by the long yell. It was much louder, right outside the doorway. Erik's hands shook as he leveled the weapon on more of the creatures and fired his weapon franticly at the base of the ladder.  
"Come on Erik!" Nick shouted, reaching further.  
The loud footsteps turned into plodding jackhammers hitting the metal floor in the hall. Another howl.  
Erik fired at the mass of zombies below.  
Click Click  
The massive bulk of flesh appeared from the hallway, running at full speed. It plowed through the crowd of undead like bowling pins. Erik threw the MP5 away and turned and grabbed hold of Nick's waiting hand.  
The C type tackled the ladder, practically splitting it in half. The beast turned around, it's body cut and disfigured. Nick attempted to pull backwards, but with no success. Erik's mind raced, the figures below awaiting his fleshy snack. He watched the C stare up at him. It bent it's legs. IT'S GONNA JUMP, Erik whipped the USP from behind his back, the creature lunging upward through the air. It's trajectory would easily hit him. He had not a second to aim, he fired three times. The corpse hit him, the big face with three bloody holes in it, the mouth wide with blood running everywhere. Big round eyes blank, staring upward. The face fell away and the monster landed in the pile of dead below. Erik paused at the experience for a moment, feeling his grip lessen.  
  
From The Author: Sorry for the lack of updates, I've been rather busy lately. I'll try to keep getting them out there!!! 


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